Señorita
by WBAD
Summary: "Oh, when your lips undress me, hooked on your tongue. Oh, Love, your kiss is deadly. Don't stop." [CLuCLu/Lelouch CC AU one-shot]


**A/N: Hi. XD Still working on the multi chapters. But then this happened xD**

**I've been listening to this song **_**way **_**too much. If you haven't heard it (though I think that's impossible with how it's been topping the charts for **_**weeks **_**lately), it's by Camilla Cabello and Shawn Mendes. And yes, I'd recommend listening to it on loop while reading this one-shot — if you're the type to listen while you read, or if you want to.**

**Thanks in advance for reading :)**

* * *

**Se****ñ****orita**

He'd met her during a business trip, and pushed their acquaintance past the boundary on a sultry summer evening, in a busy pub filled with Mariachi players and friendly locals. He'd been nursing a glass of smooth scotch then, sitting at a table cloistered away in the most luxurious area that his massive paycheck could afford, when he spotted her in the crowd — a glorious vision of a woman dripping in otherworldly beauty.

He'd seen the same woman before, had sat with her along with other business men and women in an official meeting. He'd conversed with her occasionally and politely a few times — in and out of the conference room. He wasn't blind to the fact that she was attractive, and it didn't help that her eyes had a way of penetrating his metaphysical barriers every time they talked either.

At first, it was tricky trying to grasp why he he was beginning to want her the way he did. Part of him blamed it on the alcohol he had been consuming that fateful night. The other half was being rational enough to acknowledge that yes, underneath the dark sapphire sky and beams of moonlight, she _did _look extraordinarily tempting. So unlike her calculated exterior within the four walls of the corporate building they had been holed in during the daytime for the past two weeks.

Dare he say she was consciously luring him in. (And he later found out that she did). What man would deny himself the opportunity when it was being presented right in front of him — standing only a few feet away and ordering her own drink?

Calling her by name, she acknowledged his greeting with one of her smiles — the one where he couldn't quite figure out if she was genuinely welcoming him or inwardly taunting him for being foolish enough to wander into the trap she had set. Setting his drink down, he'd asked her for a dance, and she complied with a knowing twinkle in her eye and a quirk in her full lips.

He would never know why she had said yes to his offer that night (considering the extent of their previous interactions), but he _did _find out that she was an exceptional dancer.

Dancing comfortably amid the sea of other gracefully moving bodies, she swayed her hips alluringly to the melody, twirled and settled into his arms easily, and kept her golden eyes trained on glittering violet as he matched her every step and led her into a dangerously low dip.

The hand that had been on his shoulder had traveled to the back of his neck, threading through midnight locks of hair as their noses brushed and their lips came together for a sensual kiss — surrendering to the heat of the encounter. A pleasant shudder rippled through her body as his hand skimmed her bared back and settled comfortably against her shoulder blades, pressing every line of her body against his.

He wasn't a sentimental man. Over the course of his climb to the top of the corporate ladder, he had very little time for intimate relationships in a busy schedule. Physical needs were met far in-between, and only when he couldn't find tasks to occupy his hands and his busy mind with.

But through some cruel twist of coincidence, he'd found himself dedicating time to — for lack of a better word — romance her for the last few days he had left before his time in Central America would end to travel back to the States — back to his normal life and back to the _real _world.

Because _this_ — the time that he spent with her — hardly felt real at all. It still felt like a dream… An all too gratifying dream that he refused to awake from. His last days in the warm continent were spent taking her out to late afternoon strolls and extravagant luncheons and dinner dates in restaurants that held prized views of the glittering Caribbean sea.

Nights found them cloistered away together in his or her hotel room, tangled in cool sheets and indulging in pleasures in ways that only a man and a woman could. Peeling off her clothes bit by bit, the delicate fabric clamped between his teeth, he let his hands map out her body — memorizing every dip and delicious curve. Her own hands busied themselves undressing him in the same fashion for the nth time these past few days — hungrily watching cloth slide away to reveal pale skin and a lean and slightly muscular build.

It was difficult to keep his hands away from her. So it was only acceptable if he found it even more challenging to stop himself from claiming her sweet lips and all of her again and again. He delighted in the sounds of her ecstasy — gasping and sighing beneath his skilled ministrations. It wasn't as if she was any better either as she put her lips to his ear and told him quietly what she wanted to do to him and what she wanted him to do to her.

Her hands left a trail of blazing fire as it traveled across his skin, searing every vein and lighting his passion anew. The taste, the scent, the feel of her all over him was intoxicating. Her kisses were a brand, marking him as hers — condemning him to live a life that was incomplete if he didn't have so much as a taste of her love.

He didn't know that — not for certain...

She'd never voiced any sort of emotional connection between them and neither did he. When she'd asked him what they were to each other (with her bare body draped over his in the rays of the rising sun filtering through the drapes), he'd picked the comfortable answer and told her they were more than friends and less than intimate lovers. She told him she couldn't agree more.

But he didn't believe her… Not really…

Not when he knew she was lying to herself just as much as he was.

In the days that led up to their final hours together, he saw it in her bullion eyes. He saw it in the way she gazed at him whenever she cupped his face. He felt it in the way she touched him and trustingly let him lead her into a final dance…

He tasted it in her lips when they'd kissed. He heard it in her sultry voice when she cried his name as he took her again and again in the bed that became their private haven since the day of their first dance. He understood it fully when her tears carved a slender path down her soft cheeks when she thought he'd fallen asleep.

But all the same, words failed them both when it was finally time to leave — to part from the sultry summer tale they had spun together between them.

Taking her back to her company-sponsored hotel for the last time, the only words he managed to force out of his suddenly dry mouth was a "Thank you" for the time they spent in each other's company — a word of gratitude and farewell for the shared early mornings where they laughed at silly inside jokes, for the lovely conversations over drinks and during dinner, for the nights when he basked in her affection and she teased him with kisses and he promised her things he wanted to fulfill.

For the love that budded between them in so short a time…

There wasn't much to say or do then, only that he promised her…

"Call me, and I'll be coming for you."

* * *

**EDITED: 09/01/2019**


End file.
